


I am cold

by dyventus



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hey guys back at it again except I haven't done it before, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this out with a calligraphy pen and ink, If y'all want some fluff and angst come and get it, Post-Calamity Ganon, mama mia - Freeform, post calamity, why am i like this, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyventus/pseuds/dyventus
Summary: It is raining. Has been (for a while now).And it is enough. I'm done waiting.I am cold.I have grown used to it in these days of rebirth. Hateno has thus far been my frigid catalyst. But I would never have as much minded if I had not known peace.No…No, not peace. Something else.I wouldn't have minded if I didn't know the burning.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	I am cold

It is raining. Has been (for a while now). 

And it is enough. I'm done waiting. 

In intentional tandem, I can feel my body and mind turn in my chilling, sweaty sheets. 

Sleep has not been kind to me. 

The pale eye of the moon is ice. And a century before I've only ever known it to be blood. It was for that age I have known Hatred's numbing gaze. But passion and conviction have departed now. That golden light, so hoped and yearned for, has left me bereft. 

Now. Now that it is no longer in need. 

And so.

I am cold.

I have grown used to it in these days of rebirth. Hateno has thus far been my frigid catalyst. But I would never have as much minded if I had not known peace. 

No… 

No, not peace. Something else. 

What I now endure is not frantic or active. It is silent and screaming. Yet it is not something I can hear. It is thin and heavy and pulling. It is the icy dread of cooled sweat and the weight of window panes that creak in Night's black.

I wouldn't have minded if I didn't know the burning.

The one that never leaves.

It is present and incessant. But it is only so because of its origin's absence. He thinks it a kindness. 

How more wrong could he be?

In most waking moments since my first, it was agony to know I've been deprived of that unique comfort because I "need time". To process the shadows? They never relented in all my years of isolation. I was only ever able to bide the time with shells of people I love. 

Still. Love.

I'm done waiting.

My feet land on the cool wooden boards below his bed. 

He gave me his bed. It is cold. 

I stand and am reminded of my mortality. My vision tunnels with darkness and I think back to the first time I stood as less than a goddess once again. I did not yet know how to understand physical pain. Whether or not I was able to wouldn't have made a difference. 

He was there in front of me. For the first time since I had gazed into his dimming eyes. Since I had held him as he died in my arms. Since I sobbed inconsolably into his muddy, clammy corpse at the injustice of it all and the ice finally cemented itself into my bones. 

Such a thing did not come from the Calamity.

Such a thing is owned by Grief. 

But then came the moment when we were both fallible beings facing each other after an eon apart. 

Do you really remember me? I had asked. 

In life and death, he promised. But not all the same.

It was enough. 

Before I could even process what movement was for such a state of living, I found myself in a unified effort to reciprocate his embrace. I buried my face into his neck and wept at his blazing warmth before I knew I could. I wept at the sweet flow in the vein beneath my cheek. 

He was not a corpse. I needed to know that. 

I clung to him and clung to him. But I should have held on tighter, for after a time he stiffened, pulled away, and gently led me from a moment scarce enough never to have returned. 

I step off the stairs. Then, I'm at his side, watching over his figure bathed in moonlight. I, too, wish to so comfortably cascade over him. To be the solemn light basking in his heat. I want so badly to know it for myself. 

"I know you're awake," I divulge in the quiet. It is true. Sleep is not kind: unequally to heroes and the guilty alike.

"And you are, too," he replies, searing blues oriented on me inquisitively. 

I seat myself on the floor next to the head of his cot. His eyes are trained on me without the cloud of slumber, only the lucidity and fire that he can possess. 

"Link," I sigh. "I am cold." 

My arm reaches out to him, my hand scorched the moment it caresses the skin of his face. 

"And you are so very warm."

I softly brush his bangs away from the orbs of lighting in his skull. His hand wraps delicately around my own, and he bores into my very core with those beautiful azure spheres. 

He is searching. I am giving.

"Then I will hold you," he answers.

Upon climbing into his envelopment I discover that never in my first life did I feel such tenderness and warmth than in that singular occasion. 

And never did I sleep so soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)
> 
> (⊙_⊙;)
> 
> Yeah. So. Anyway. I've been writing for quite some time now, but I finally decided to post some of it. I'm a little terrified. If y'all want to leave some feedback that'd be nice. Do y'all... like this? Is this okay? 
> 
> I wrote it out with a calligraphy pen if you want to see that too: https://dyventusdesigns.tumblr.com/post/645192639575130112/i-am-cold
> 
> So. Yeah. Have a lovely day/ afternoon/ night. <3


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